the patron saint of liars and fakes
by bleuboxes
Summary: She hates not being in control, she hates letting this thing continue to parade her skin around and she hates that the Doctor doesn't even notice that it's something completely alien controlling her body.
1. Chapter 1

_And when it all goes to hell_  
 _Will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face?_

" **The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes", by Fall Out Boy**

* * *

She's never felt so helpless before. It's weird and it's new and she hates it. She hates not being in control, she hates letting this thing continue to parade her skin around and she hates that the Doctor doesn't even notice that it's something completely alien controlling her body.

Its only when the thing makes an attempt on his almost immortal life that he notices that Clara isn't actually Clara at all. She feels terrible for almost ending the Time Lords life, but it wasn't her; she's being possessed by some sort of monster.

He traps it (or her) inside some weird star design that the thing in charge of her movements recognizes with disdain. The thing is angry – furious even - that a being such as he knew of such things. (She's sure that he's been around long enough to have the least bit of knowledge on such creatures.)

He's talking to the thing with an anger that she's never seen him use on anyone or anything before, and that's saying something, she's seen him when he's at his worst. This is a new level of rage entirely. She knows that this is not good. This is very not good. She needs to get this thing out of her body and her mind as soon as she can.

And that's when it starts using her own thoughts and memories against her. She's sorry; he doesn't deserve all the crap that she's been keeping to herself. He doesn't need to know about her emotional issues. (He's about ninety-nine percent of them.)

He doesn't seem to listen or to care. It's like he already knows. (Which she supposes is alright) He keeps saying he's sorry and that he's going to get help, then he continues muttering on about 'stupid demons' which makes absolutely no sense to her because demons can't be real.

Sure, she believes in aliens. But God and all that heaven and hell crap?

If there was a god, she doesn't understand why he's let all this terrible stuff happen to her. (Like her mother and Danny and pretty much everyone else she's ever loved dying). She believes in good people and good deeds, not some magical mystic being that looks over everyone. (Although she keeps him in mind from time to time. It's nice to almost think that someone actually cares.)

The TARDIS is whining and making annoyed noises; it's almost as if she and the Doctor both don't want to find the person (or thing, though she would love to stick with people for right now) that can get this so called demon out of her head.

The TARDIS stops it whining and lands; he leaves her in the TARDIS for just a moment while he goes to look around outside. How she hopes he'll come back with help! (She's also hoping that the TARDIS has brought them to the right place because it's all too often that the space ship is a stubborn ass and just simply refuses to listen to her or the Doctor's instructions.)

xXx

When he returns with two tall and attractive men, she doesn't question it. They both look as if they've seen this sort of thing before. She can feel the thing's anger and hatred towards these two men; she's certian that these must be the people that can help her.

The demon knows of these people, who seem to be awfully fond of flannel and dressing in layers (not that she can blame them). The shorter of the two (who ironically also has shorter hair and is the one she finds a little bit more attractive) looks relatively pissed off, more than likely at the demon and the Doctor than at her. The taller one looks almost amused; it's almost as if he's seeing an old friend (or two).

Then her mouth starts moving without her willing it too. The demon says hello like it knows them, like they were sort of close at one point but that obviously wasn't really the case.

"Hello, Ruby." Says the taller of the two; the things name is Ruby. It feels foreign and wrong that these two men are having a conversation with something that's using her to communicate. She just wants this Ruby out of her; she wants her body back.

They chat with each other (although it's not really a chat; it's more like childish bickering with not so childish language. The Doctor's just standing on the sideline; he's waiting for the two men to get this stupid thing out of her. She wants to scream 'shut up' to the both of them so they can all be on their merry way back to whatever planet or year or universe they live in. She just wants to get back to normal.

The taller one starts saying something in what she believes to be Latin. She can feel the demon's reaction. It's being pulled out of her mind. It almost feels as if soda or something is coming out of her nose, which has happened to her before, unfortunately.

And then, she feels nothing and everything all at once. She feels as if she should run over to the Doctor and thank him for saving her, but he didn't really do much. Hell, he didn't even notice that it wasn't really her until she tried to kill him. (Which she finds completely pathetic; she jumped in his time stream to save him and he doesn't even realize that he has a demon on his space ship.)

She also thinks she should thank the other two mysterious men, but she really doesn't feel like it. They both looked as if they had wanted to kill her, and if it wasn't for the Doctor, they most likely would have.

So, she stands in her place looking back and forth between the three of them, then she runs for the door. She's in some motel parking lot. It's pretty trashy so she assumes she's in America. There are cars, but not many. She spots a classy looking black one, she believes it to be a sixties model, and rushes over to that, which ultimately was her first mistake, because apparently that car belongs to the two nut jobs that the Doctor invited onto the TARDIS.

She's about to take her shoe off to smash the front left window when she hears the TARDIS dematerialize and she lets out a scream of anger and frustration. She's cursing and that's when someone grabs her from behind, putting her in a choke hold. She's trying to lower her chin and she's clawing him with her nails (which she was supposed to get done tomorrow. Dammit, Doctor!)

She's trying to scream and she's kicking, which really isn't helping her, because the person who has her is forcibly shoving her towards a motel room is more muscular and much taller than she is. She can't believe this is happening; she just want to go home and cry and read a book (or two or three, she also kind of wants to go to Space Vegas, because she needs something more fun and less dangerous. Although the last time the Doctor took her there, he looked much younger and they got stuck on a Soviet Submarine before they arrived.)

When they finally enter the equally trashy looking motel room, he loosens his grip and lets her go, which is a mistake because she aims a very forceful kick at his crotch. He crumples over in pain; and that's when she realizes that it's the shorter of the two men that she's kicked and she can't seem to find the taller one. He's probably outside waiting for her to rush out of the room or something weird and crazy like that.

When he stops painting a picture with his colorful language, she grabs a glass and pours herself a drink. (To her convenience there's a bottle of cheap whiskey sitting right on the table.) She doesn't bother to offer him one; she's much too angry for pleasantries.

"Where the hell am I?" she asks. He looks up at her with a scowls; she wishes that she could feel bad for kicking him, but she doesn't. He stands up, taking the sat across from her.

"You're in America, sweetheart." She rolls her eyes.

"So, I've just been left for dead in America by my best friend. _Lovely."_ The sarcasm practically drips from her mouth like a popsicle n a hot summer day.

"Well, not left for dead, exactly." He says; she fears the end of his statement. If the Doctor left her in their care she may just kill him (or herself, because you know, he's not fucking here).

"Be a gentleman and please refrain from saying the last part of that statement because I don't want to hear it."

"Sorry, Lady," he says aggravated, she gulps down her drink, "You're stuck with us."

"Why would he do this to me?" she asks to no one in particular, "I mean, sure I almost blackmailed him once –"

"Almost?" asks the man with a slight grin. She would like nothing more than to slap it off him, but if what he said was true, she would be boarding with him and the other man, so she might as well share some of her almost infinite backstory.

"Yes. I don't feel like telling a _complete psychopath_ my complete backstory right now, so we're just going to leave it at that."

"We'd both be considered psychopaths, sweetheart. I hunt creatures and you travel with aliens; there's nothing sane about anything."

"Are you going to insist on calling me sweetheart; because honestly, it's just making me hate Americans more." He smiles, looking almost proud that he's annoying the shit out of her.

"Unless you give me a name, I don't see why sweetheart isn't acceptable. Unless you would prefer 'babe' or 'love'."

"Well, you could call me Clara. Seein' as that's my name." (She's quoting herself now, good god what has the world come to?)

"Well, hello, Clara. I'm Dean." He smiles, something that is probably supposed to turn her feelings into goo, but it doesn't, if anything it's making her angrier that she has to stay with him. Although if she does remember correctly, he and Jack Harkness are an awful lot alike, and Jack is a blast.

"What year is it?"

"Uh, two thousand ten? Why?"

"Don't ask. It's a very complicated answer." She looks around, "Where's the tall one?"

"Sam's making sure that you don't run out the door."

"Not like I have anywhere to go." she mumbles bitterly.

"Exactly."

"So… America twenty-ten… let's see. Have you guys been having crazy weather?"

"Yeah."

"I remember this year. I dumped my boyfriend on Valentine's Day. Good times."

"Wait, you're a future chick?" he asks, his interests peaks and she lets out a sigh.

"Yes. And if you ask anything about anything not suitable for a ladies ears, so help me god."

xXx

And they chat. As it turns out, Dean isn't all that bad. He's an asshole, but he isn't a dick and she can live with that. Sam is much more personable and much less sex crazed.

As it turns out, the Doctor's just left her in the middle of the Apocalypse (with his supposed monster hunting besties), which she's just all too thrilled about. She also still hasn't asked them about 'Ruby', but she really has no care in finding out.

She's exhausted (Not sleeping for a while does that to people.) and claims the couch. She goes into the bathroom, which doesn't even have hot water and washes her face before peeing for the first time in weeks. She exits the bathroom and practically dives onto the couch which more than likely carries more viruses than alien bogeys, which are disgusting and the fact that this couch ranks up there makes her really perturbed.

She closes her eyes and she's out instantly. She hopes that she'll find out why the Doctor left her here and how she can possibly get out of here before all hell breaks loose. Literally.

* * *

 **HEY HEY HEY!**

 **So I've decided to write another crossover because its summer and I'm extremely bored with waiting for Doctor Who to come back.**

 **So I put my two favorite shows together. (Plus I want to write an Osdean fic bc there are like zero of them and the pairing is hella cute.)**

 **I had no idea how to start this without sounding cliché or annoying and I want Clara to be seen as strong willed and brave rather than the little girl she looks like. I also wanted nothing to do with the eleventh doctor in this fic because he's so anti killing things that he and Sam and dean would just spend every conversation fighting over killing a thing, and fanfictions like that just get me upset so.**

 **Plus twelve is violent and grumpy and I love him so *shrugs***

 **This is going to take place in season five, probably after Abandon All Hope (which I did after that episode.)**

 **ANDDD Who doesn't love Clara and the boys saving the world? (Apparently a lot of people, so if this isn't your cuppa, don't bother reading!)**

 **Thanks, loves! Hope to hear from you all in the form of reviews and follows and favorites!**

 **Bye bye and thank you all so much for reading!**

 **bleuboxes**


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm holding out and I'm holding on_  
 _To every letter and every song_

* * *

She wakes up early the next morning due to the blaring of some old _Kansas_ song from the junky digital alarm clock on the nasty looking bedside table. Sam groans, smashes the snooze button then flips his body over and pulls the pillow over his head, while Dean practically pops out of the bed and prances into the bathroom to do god only knows what.

She just sits still and stares at the particularly gross looking ceiling wondering how she even got into this mess. Usually, she would try to convince herself that the Doctor was coming to rescue her – that he was going to get her out of whatever her predicament might have been, but that wasn't true for this instance. He wasn't coming to save her. She was going to have to put on her big girl clothes and solve this problem herself (with minimum to no help from the dear brothers she's rooming with.)

Pulling the ragged blanket up to her chin, she lets out a heavy sigh and demands her tear ducts to stay dry; she will not let them spill in front of these strangers that look just as enthused as she is to be here. She's just another responsibility for them. She's another innocent that got dragged in to whatever they affiliate themselves with. (She knows the drill; she travels space and saves people from hostile aliens for god's sake.)

She would give anything to be back home in her flat, to be teaching the youth at Coal Hill, to be in the stupid time machine rather than this run down shit hole that the Americans seem to call a motel. She hates it here; more so she hates the circumstance that brought her here. That in and of itself is so upsetting it leaves her wanting to scream and quite frankly, a little bit more emotionally deranged than she was to begin with.

Maybe if she understood why that thing possessed her she wouldn't be nearly as furious, but alas, she didn't know why it wanted her body. She didn't know why this 'Ruby' wanted to kill the Doctor. (Honestly, she wishes she can just go back to dealing with strictly human and alien affairs. This demon and ghost stuff is way out of her comfort zone.)

Dean emerges from the bathroom exclaiming a vast array of language as he stubs his toe on the door frame, which abruptly cuts off her train of thought. She sits up and looks at Sam, who still shows no visible signs of attempting to get out of the bed, so she beelines for the bathroom.

She takes a quick shower, allowing herself five minutes to let the running water silence her tears, but no more. She combs out her hair with her fingers and attempts to dry it with the complementary hairdryer. When she finishes, her head looks like it has a dead rat on top of it, so she puts her hair up into a messy ponytail in attempt to make herself look a little bit more presentable.. She redresses herself into her dirty clothes which smell very unearthly and one whiff could probably kill someone who has a sensitive nose.

She emerges from the bathroom looking like a drowned animal and Dean snorts like her outfit is some sort of joke (which it is; god, even she knows that.) She gives him the middle finger; she's too lazy to use her words and too frustrated with her quandary and his being a part of it to even think about talking to him.

The only thing she can think about is breakfast; heavens to goodness, she's starving.

Then the stupid alarm goes off again, this time with an _Eagles_ song that she recognizes from hearing it in the car with her Dad when she was a little girl, and she practically lunges towards the dratted clock and throws it at the wall. She's so angry with everything and everyone and the only thing that might be able to fix it is a nice bagel with a huge slab of cream cheese.

Dean laughs, a cold but genuine laugh and the next thing he knows her hands are around his neck, a look of pure malice glimmers on her face. She's doing a pretty good job of cutting off his oxygen supply; he's struggling to unfurl her fingers from his throat and she's successfully dodging his half-assed attempts at smashing her shins.

That is until Sam and his unnatural human giganticness comes over and pulls her off his brother in about three seconds flat. He asks Dean if he's alright; Dean's response is ragged breaths and a scowl followed by a thumbs up and a wink. Oh, how she _loathes_ him more than the Devil himself! Sam gives her the look – the one that says that he's mad that she hurt his brother, but probably would have done the same thing if he was in her situation. (Okay, sure she was maybe trying to kill him; maybe that's a _bit_ much.)

She mutters 'asshole' under her breath when Sam leaves to get himself ready. Dean's smart enough this time to monitor what comes out of his mouth, much to her surprise. She's half tempted to try and strangle Dean again, but she recons that the Doctor wouldn't have left her with a bunch halfwits if he didn't trust them. (Plus, they did get the demon out of her, so maybe she should put a little blind faith into their cause.)

Except, usually, her blind faith and duty to a cause end up getting her killed; well, not really her but her billions of her replicas scattered throughout time and space have been practically slaughtered because of her unorthodox reliability to some silly (and now unmistakably grumpy) old man. She's decided that she is going to allow herself to trust them, but not with her life. She's her number one priority and she would rather have her life in her own hands rather than in the hands of two handsome Americans that she's only just met.

She walks over to the couch she slept on and sits down with a huff of musty air. She's at the point where she is just about ready to crumble into little bits of dust; it's bad enough she was just left here by the Doctor, but now she may have to help stop the Apocalypse and that doesn't seem to be setting well in her stomach.

Heaven help them, this doesn't even make any sense! How is she supposed to do all of this – how is she supposed to get over the fact that she's been possessed by a demon then abandoned in America just in time for the end of the world, because it sounds way too much teen novel-y for her liking.

She rubs her face in frustration and confusion, still thinking of how she is going to live with these humans without killing them and how she's going to survive the upcoming Armageddon and then manage to get back to the TARIS so she can go back to her job and forget that this has ever happened. (She remembers hearing that memory worms are surprisingly good at making you forget, so maybe she'll get herself one of those when she returns to England.)

Sam is finished doing whatever he was doing in the bathroom and walks out of the door rather gracefully for such a tall person. He gives her a reassuring smile after she looks up. (If only Dean was as nice.) He mentions for his brother to 'get his shit together' so they can get on the road. Dean refuses to do anything until Sam mentions breakfast; Sam shakes his head in amusement and disappointment while she just sits there looking stunned. (Dean's more like a dog than she thought.)

They finish packing and call for her to come out to the car; they're leaving now. (Thank goodness, because she's fucking starving) She gets into the backseat slowly and cautiously because Dean's watching her with hawk eyes, as if he's making sure she doesn't contaminate his car with her space germs. (She's almost positive that worse things have sat back there so she's not really sure why he's causing such a fuss.)

xXx

Sam gets into the passenger seat and Dean drives. He grabs a cassette tape and puts it in, which gives Clara a sense of nostalgia, bringing her back to simpler times; before her life was filled with aliens and demons and Americans. She lets the crescendos of the rock and roll music distract her from her plighting hunger.

They pull into some chain restaurant about an hour later. She exits the car and tries her best to walk like adult into the place and not like a starving child. She's the first of the trio to enter and she hops right in line and orders a bagel with cream cheese and a coffee, and remembers that she's severely lacking in the money department.

Fortunately for her, Sam steps in and adds to her order and pays. She whispers thank you to the taller of the brothers and he shrugs like it's no big deal. (Which it isn't; it's a very reassuring thought to know that chivalry isn't dead during the end of times.)

And then she remembers that she lives in twenty-fifteen, five fucking years later – the world can't end! Or maybe it can, maybe it depends on the choices that the three of them make; this must not be a fixed point.

She literally utters 'fuck' out loud, earning her foul looks from a mother and father who are covering up the ears of a small child. Sam's waiting for their food to be done, and she spots Dean by a booth. Needing someone to complain to, she walks over to him muttering about her 'freedom of speech'.

"Is _everyone_ in this country an arrogant _prick_?" She asks bitterly.

She looks down at Dean, who's also giving her a death glare, and that's when she notices the other person sitting across from him in the booth who looks a little pissed off at her. The woman is blonde and pretty if you're into fake breasts and nose jobs. She gets up, saying something about how he should have told her that he had a girlfriend and leaves before she even has the chance to tell her that she's not romantically involved with Dean.

She steals the blonde's seat and looks at her hands. She feels a little bad about ruining Dean's chances with that _lovely_ woman, but it's the least she can do, seeing as if she's been dragged into their apocalypse without a flight home.

"She seemed nice." She suggests. Dean glares at her.

"Shut it, British."

"Wow, I've met children who can come up with more insulting names for me than that."

"Maybe you future people are just less original."

"Maybe so. Maybe it's just the American curriculum."

"Like you folks are so much better."

"Are you insinuating my students are poorly educated?"

"You're a teacher?" he questioned curiously.

"I teach English Literature, yes."

"You have a job and a life and still manage to travel with the Doc?"

"Why is this idea so foreign to you, Dean; I'm sure his other companions have juggled their personal lives and their intergalactic ones just as I do."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, sweetheart." He quips, "All the ones that I've met quit their jobs and permanently traveled with the Doctor; although Amy and Rory managed their lives pretty well. Wonder how they're doing."

"They're dead." She blurts out. She knows how they died; she knows about all of his companions – she's saved them all so many times she's lost count. She's sure Dean's wondering about the 'how' factor, but it doesn't matter how she knew them or how they died – nothing matters because you're just going to get the same outcome. She knows that; she's dealt with death so many times before it's tainted her with a bitterness and a respect for the topic.

"Oh." He says at a loss for words, "I'll have to tell Doc I'm sorry, then; I liked those two."

"They were pretty great." She mutters, remembering her time from the Dalek asylum.

"You've met them?" he probes cautiously. She doesn't feel like going into the whole 'I got my soul split up to save the Doctor because I may have liked him a little too much to watch him die' story, so she tells him what's important.

"It just a brief meeting really, I helped them escape some Daleks. Rory had a great nose… I called him Nina; it was a personal thing. He sort of reminded me of my ex-girlfriend." He nodded.

"So you're, um..."

"Nope. It was just a onetime thing; I was experimenting. She was much too clingy for me anyway."

"Oh, okay."

"No harm done."

At that moment, Sam walked over to their table with the food, and the three of them headed back towards the car. Once they were all in, including the cassette, Sam handed out the food. Her bagel was delicious; she practically inhaled it. In fact, as Sam stated, she broke Dean's record for fastest meal eaten, which earned a laugh from her and Dean.

xXx

They're on their way to Bobby Singers home, who is apparently a good friend of theirs. She'll be able to stay there with them while they figure out this apocalypse crap that's going on. (Dean had suggested that she clean and she smacked him in the back of the head, which followed with a rant on how she's not going to clean up anyone's mess but her own (Alas, that didn't apply to the mess she was helplessly tossed into no thanks to that demon, which she has yet to confront them about, and the Doctor.)

They've been in the car or nine hours and they've listened to the same tape so many times that she may just lean up there, take it out and strangle herself with it. Just as she's about to warn them about the tapes impending fate, they arrive at a salvage yard. (She's assuming this is where Bobby Singer lives.)

Dean parks the car and shuts of the engine and they all exit the car and walk up to the front porch of a faded white house. Sam knocks on the door, yells for this Bobby that she has yet to meet, and enters the door. They walk in cautiously, and Sam and dean both pull out knives, leaving her feeling a little left out and severely under protected.

She's grabbed from behind just ash they're about to enter the kitchen and forced against the wall. She lets out a yelp of surprise, which causes the brothers too look back. The stranger pulls out a flask of something and douses her with it (Which is not a good first impression) then proceeds to take her arm and slice it with a knife. (An even _better_ second impression).

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you people?" She shouts, clearly unimpressed, "Can I go one day without meeting any more psychopaths please!" she cries out hysterically.

"You boys mind tellin' me who this little lady is?"

"I'm Clara Oswald and _I'm right here_!"

"Bobby, this is, um, Clara. The Doctor, you know of the Doctor, right? Anyway, the Doctor dropped her off with us after we exorcised her." Sam explained.

"Yes, now can you kindly let go of me now. I'm tired and angry and short and I'm really close to kicking you right now. I'm in heels. if I need to I will impale my shoe into your leg; so, let go."

"Yes, ma'am."

She walks up the stairs and finds a bedroom that doesn't look like it's been used in a while and collapses onto the bed. She falls asleep with hopes that she'll help the two of those idiots downstairs avert the end of the world.

But before her mind finally shuts down, she swears she hears Bobby ask them how they ended up with a time traveling British woman in their creature killing entourage. (What really boggles her is how Dean seems at a loss for words when Bobby asks why she was possessed in the first place. This was his area of expertise; he should know this just as well as she knows about the literary analysis of _Great Expectations._ )

* * *

 **Hey guys, so this was supposed to be up yesterday but I just ran out of time, so sorry for the delay.**

 **reviews and favorites/follows are greatly appreciated.**

 **also, I've decided that i'm going to start of each chapter from lyrics from the song from which this fic was named, or from other songs from the album on which this song is featured. (fight me; I use way too much fall out boy)**

 **Anyways, thank you so much for your continued support with this story and all my others, it means a lot to me.**

 **thanks for reading, bleuboxes.**


	3. Chapter 3

_This is side one, flip me over,  
I know I'm not your favorite record.  
The songs you grow to like never stick at first_

* * *

She wakes up the next morning feeling rather well rested for the first time since being dropped off with the Winchesters. She yawns before getting out of bed. She trudges down the stairs lazily despite being wide eyed and bushytailed. It's eerily quiet and the creaking of her weight on the stairs is sort of setting her off. She reaches the last stair and her ears are greeted with the sounds of someone soft snores. She lets out a breath that she didn't know she was holding in and quietly treads into the kitchen to raid Bobby's fridge.

His refrigerator is much neater than she had been expecting it to be. There are fruits (mostly apples, but that works) and vegetables of many colors spread throughout the shelves and drawers. There is fresh milk and cranberry juice on the top shelf surrounded by packages of take-out. And of course, he has a whole shelf solely devoted to his beer, which she was expecting to be frank. She grabs the milk, turns and sets it down on the table cluttered with papers and books. She proceeds to search for the pantry to dig out some cereal (which she finds about ten minutes later. For how organized his fridge was, his pantry was eight times worse.)

She found a bowl in the cabinet above the sink; she carried to the cluttered table, placed it and put about a cup of stale oat cereal into it. She poured some of the milk into the dry cereal and put it back in the fridge. She was just about to seat herself when she remembers that she doesn't have a spoon and it would be painfully awkward if she tried to eat her cereal without one.

Her only problem was that she had no idea where the silverware was kept and she isn't too keen on looking through all of Bobby's kitchen cabinets and drawers. (She digs through them anyway. She was hungry, and a hungry Clara is a determined one.) She goes through three out of five drawers before she finds his silverware, which to her inconvenience is all mixed together.

She cringes every time she hears the tiny clang of metal while digging for a spoon. Eventually, she finds one; she tip-toes over to sit down and eat her now soggy breakfast. She sits in silence except for the occasional snore and the scraping of the spoon against the bottom of the bowl. She finishes and brings her dishes into the sink and begins to wash them. The faucet is loud and she desperately hopes that the boys sleep through it. (God knows they probably haven't slept in three years.)

xXx

When she's done with her dishes, she decided to go back to her room and do a little digging around, hoping to find clean clothes, her dress and sweater were starting to smell funky. She pranced up the stairs, hoping that the tiny little footsteps wouldn't make much noise. She reaches her bedroom and opens the nearest dresser.

The top drawer is bare. The next one down has mouse droppings, a rosary and an old newspaper in it. The third contains a black lacy bra (she doesn't even want to know, though it roughly her size, so she pulls it out anyway), a half empty water bottle, a red and black flannel shirt that looks like it belongs to a lumberjack which she takes out and tosses onto the bed, and what seems to be the full discography of ACDC in a collection of tapes. In the fourth drawer, she finds a few more flannels and two pairs of sweatpants that are going to be monstrously large on her; they'll have to do until she can get to town and get some cheap American apparel and other things that are sort of important to her life as a female.

She waltzes back over to the door and shuts it quietly, then walks over to the bed and strips out of her clothing. She takes off her bra and replaces it with the black lacy one, which feels a lot more comfortable than she was expecting. She puts on the black and red flannel that smells vaguely like the elder Winchester (which she doesn't really mind; he does seem to smell kind of nice, rugged, but nice nonetheless).

The shirt is huge on her small body, but the shirt is well worn and comfy which cancels out the 'I'm actually wearing a dress' factor of the article of clothing. (She actually feels a little cute in it, so sue her.) She puts on the sweatpants and she laughs. They need to be rolled at the waist a good six times for them to not fall off her hips. He legs are way too long and she rolls them as well.

She feels ridiculous. (As in she needs to find a washer fast ridiculous, because she won't be caught dead in what she's wearing.)

Luckily for her, Bobby and Sam could sleep through the TARDIS exploding. Unluckily for her, Dean is a light sleeper, so when she gets finds the laundry room and starts her wash, he's there trying not to look like the sly bastard that he is.

She turns around, trying to hide her internal horror of being seen with a look of amusement (it's not working) and notices that his short hair is disheveled and though his face shows amusement and liveliness, he looks exhausted. She feels guilt-ridden knowing that she's most likely at fault for his unrest and desperately wants to apologize to him; he never asked to be in this mess (neither did she, but its different when you're assigned to take care of someone with next to no notice.)

But she doesn't. Instead, she tells him to screw off, a command that he directly ignores.

"Good morning to you too, sweetheart." He mutters.

She doesn't reply. She turns around and tries to escape the laundry room (where she's escaping to is another question entirely, but she's not thinking about that right now.) Her plan fails, seeing as Dean's blocking the door. She lets out a sigh as she plows into him, hoping the small amount of force her tiny body has will be enough to knock him over.

He's giving her a look, looking at her shirt (specifically her chest, which was what she honestly expected from him) and grinned.

"Nice shirt you've got there." She's a little flushed, but doesn't back down.

"Thank you." She replies with a smile, which is actually more like a grimace. She would love if he just left her alone, "If you could let me out of here, I'd show you the rest of my flannel collection." He scowls, as if he remembers something important (Which she's sure has something to do with the drawers and the shirts, which really shouldn't be at the top of his priorities).

And then he picks her up by the waist and throws her over his shoulder. She doesn't fight it, she's too worn out by his antics to even put up a fight. She doesn't kick while he carries her body out to his car, and she sure as hell doesn't scream when he gets in the drives seat and starts driving into town.

He turns up the stereo (they're listening to more classic rock, surprise surprise) and starts mouthing the words of Joan Jett's _I Love Rock 'n' Roll_ , which almost makes her giggle, almost being the operative word. She watches him and the scenery carefully, both he and the landscape share an uncanny beauty. (Which is weird, she's only known him for like two days. He shouldn't be having such an infuriating effect on her.)

"Where are you taking me?" she asks after five minutes of his horrendous car dancing.

"Well, I can't have you wearing my favorite flannels now can I?" he suggests with mirth; she cracks a smile.

"I suppose not. Although I think I'm going to keep this one. Sorry, Dean." He gives her that look again, it's strange and she doesn't like it so she pretends he's not looking at her in the first place.

"It's 'right." He chuckles, "We're going to town, well not Suix Falls, the next one over, seeing as it's bigger and there's more shops and stuff."

"Dean, I hate to say it but I'm sort of low on cash so this shopping excursion may have to be put on hold until I get a job or something." She says, embarrassed. She already feels bad enough being a burden to the both of them while they're trying to figure out how to stop the world from ending. She doesn't want them to spend all their money her – some British girl with enough issues to cause political unrest on several different planets.

"This one's on me, seriously; don't worry about it."

"I just feel like I'm imposing; I don't want you to spend all your money on me." She sighs, "You're doing so much for me already – I don't want to seem like a bother."

"Clara," he begins, "You're here because the Doctor said you important in this saving the world ordeal that Sam and I got ourselves flung into – you're here because he's a part of it too. You also seem to be here because the Demons seem to have taken a keen interest in you, which you should find flattering; they like you as much as they like me. You're not a burden; damn, I don't know what got you thinking that way. Must be a chick thing."

"That doesn't mean you have to pay for me –" she starts.

"Plus I kind of owe you, you know you did save my sorry ass when you saved this fucking planet."

She doesn't know what to say, so she replies with an earnest "Thank You." The rest of the ride is spent listening to Dean's overplayed tapes. There are no more heart to heart conversations.

xXx

When they arrive, she finds a store that sells cheap clothes (that seem durable) and underwear and she stocks up on tees, flannels, and the much needed undergarments. Dean sweet-talks the cashier into giving them a five percent discount (how he managed that, she isn't sure; maybe it's because Clara looks like some homeless chump and she felt guilty.)

On their way home, they stop at the drugstore, where she and Dean grab medication and her feminine products (he didn't act like a whiny seventeen year old boy about it, which she was thankful for. There wasn't a fuss or anything.)

They arrived back at Bobby's shortly after that. She carried her bags inside and up to her room, noticing Sam and Bobby sipping coffee at the table in the kitchen on her way up. She quickly changed out of the sweatpants that looked like they belonged to a mountain and put on a pair of jeans that were actually her size. She refused to take off dean's flannel; she was way too comfortable in the way-too-big shirt.

As she receded back downstairs and joined them at the kitchen table, she listened to them talking about a case that they would be leaving for shortly (Bobby said it would be a simple salt and burn, whatever the hell that meant). And then she realized that she would be helping them doing whatever it is they do and she was both terrified and exceptionally excited at the same time.

(She was half tempted to recite Ghost Busters theme song when Sam told them to get their stuff together to leave soon, but she thought that he might beat her up if she did, so she wisely kept her mouth shut.)

* * *

 **AYYYYY HEY GUYS! IT'S BEEN A WHILE because I've been really busy with the beginning of my Sophomore year *shrieks* and we're redoing my kitchen, so I haven't had a spare moment of time to work on anything.**

 **Since doctor who comes back tomorrow (well today, seeing as its 12:30 am) I decided to work on my doctor who xover.**

 **This chapter is mostly a filler, and I promise with the next one we will get more plot development and hopefully more pre-osdean moments.**

 **I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A WONDER DOCTOR WHO PREMIER AND DON'T CRY TOO MUCH. (Gosh I'm so excited**

 **Don't forget to review, favorite and follow! Constructive/positive feedback is appreciated!**

 **Lots of love,**

 **bleuboxes**


	4. Chapter 4

_I know you would be there either way.  
_ _I'm so glad it seems like these times will never fade._

* * *

They drive to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico over the course of that night and half of the next day. Clara takes in the view as they travel through the American scenery. It's flat, for the most part, but she finds it beautiful in its own, distinct way; she's always loved sightseeing, and she believes that her love of admiring foreign environments is part of the reason she took up traveling with the Doctor in the first place.

The brothers are busy talking over Dean's outdated rock and roll cassette tapes, and when she's not watching the scenery waltz past them, she's observing them from the back seat. Their relationship is not something one would deem healthy; she can gather that they have troubling co-dependency issues from being with them for only a few days. But their familiarity and joking manner with each other makes her almost wish that she wasn't an only child, the thought of her and the Doctor comes back to haunt her.

He was her best friend, and she knew, deep in her heart that he was trying to help her and the Earth, but there was lack of communication; and from experience, Clara knew that the air of confusion between the two of them leading up to Ruby leaving her body would cause problems. She misses her best friend, and if saving the bloody world with these two ass-hats means getting to see him again, so be it.

She lets out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding in. Dean looks back at her, a concerned expression on his face. It looks as if he's about to ask if she's alright (she almost hopes he'll ask), but she turns her head so that she's looking out the window once more before any words can even leave his mouth.

An hour later, she finds herself absent mindedly singing along to Billy Idol's "White Wedding" while staring at the setting sun. She's popped out of her revelry when Dean turns up the music and starts singing along, rather off key, looking back at her through the rear-view mirror with a wide smirk on his face. Sam laughs, looking back at her, then apologizes for his brothers terrible singing.

"Shut up, Sammy. It's a classic."

"Fine." Pouts Sam, then he begins singing along as well. And for a moment, she imagines that it her life were normal – with no monsters or aliens or demons or whatever – that this might actually be a good memory. She decides to forget about the shit she's gotten herself into (for at least until the end of this song, and allows herself to sing along loudly.

Her voice isn't bad, but it isn't the best either (but it's better than the boys' for a long shot), and by the end of the song, she's burst into a fit of giggles over the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. They're on their way to kill a ghost (The Doctor, she's sure, would argue you can't kill something if it's already dead) singing a stupid Billy Idol song during the middle of their efforts to prevent the Apocalypse.

And to her surprise, Sam and Dean join in too, which is nice. Their laughs are nice and masculine – deep and rumbly, but still happy and jovial. It's strange; her laugh sounds like one of a mad woman (which isn't too far off; to any normal person, she'd be considered completely off her rocker). This feeling of familiarity with the Winchesters is nice; she likes it and wouldn't really mind if it happened again.

When their giggles die out and Dean goes back to bickering with Sam, she rests her head against the door and tries to fall asleep. (She's successful.)

xXx

"Hey, British, we're here." Dean's voice rouses her from her slumber. It looks like it's just past twilight. They sky is a milky grey with the moonlight illuminating there cloudy sky. There are no stars out tonight. She lets him help her out the car, taking his hand to get up. It's calloused and rough, but gentle. His hands are worn and used (for what, she has no intention of finding out) and she finds them very fitting for him. (Which they should be, they are _his_ hands after all.) She lets go after she gains her balance. Walking to the trunk to take her belongings inside, he stops her.

"I grabbed them already," he says, she's about to say that he didn't have to do anything of the sort; she's already been put in his care (he's done enough already) "Don't worry about it."

She sighs in annoyance, but she appreciates the gesture. Instead of arguing about how she could have done it seeing as she's perfectly able-bodied, she thanks him. (His look of confusion almost makes her question if he was anticipating an argument about this matter.)

"No problem."

"Where's Sam?" she asks as they make their way to the motel room.

"At the Gas n' Sip across the street getting some food or something."

"Oh." She replies as he unlocks the door. The motel room isn't pretty, but it isn't as bad as the last one, although it's sizably smaller. There is a small kitchenette, and a little table with three dented wooden chairs. There are two beds further back, with a TV in the middle of the opposite wall. There isn't a couch, so she supposes she's going to have to bunk with one of the Winchesters. She doesn't make a big deal out of it, because there is literally nothing there to make a big fuss over. Sure, both of them were ridiculously attractive, but it was literally a bed and she had no intention on shagging either of them (yet).

Either way, it was blatantly obvious that while both of them were growing friendlier towards her, they didn't fancy her. (Although Dean might have. She was starting to get the idea that he fancied anything with tits and long legs; and she was growing a little short in the leg department)

Minutes later, Sam walks through the door carrying a flimsy plastic bag filled with processed food and a few fruits. She sits on the bed, while Sam sits across from Dean at the table. She's flickering through the channels, finding only cringe-worthy American news stations and children's programming. She finally settles on a mediocre sounding news channel before walking over to take the third seat.

As soon as she sits down, Sam flings a gummy-worm at her head. She almost falls out of the seat n surprise, letting out a squeal of laughter. Sam laughs n delight, his long hair shaking violently as he can't stop the rumbles of laughter from tumbling out. Dean stares at them, trying his hardest not to look amused (but they can tell that he is. It's hard not to be)

"Are you two done?" He drones.

"Yeah. Yeah." They laugh together. Dean gives them one last glance, which looks sort of menacing, so they shut up.

"Thank you," he sighs, Clara steals one of Sam's gummy-worms out of the bag, not really aware of what's happening, "So our vic is twenty-seven year old Emilia Rodgers; she drowned to death last week."

"Yeah, what's so spooky about that?" she asked, wanting to provoke him a little.

"Well, it says here, _British_ , that her girlfriend, Brigid, found her head submerged in a bucket out behind their home. She was home alone at the time, so it's not like someone could have held her head down."

"Well," she sighs with a smile, "that ups the spook factor a little."

"Yeah; Sam, did you find anything worthwhile before you went and got that garbage from across the street?"

"Jesus Christ, Dean, for the last time they were out of the fucking pie," he whines, earning a tiny smile from Clara and a full-fledged grin from his elder brother, "And yeah. Say's here that Brigid had recently bought Emelia a necklace from an antique shop down the road; it looks old, so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that it's the necklace that's either haunted or cursed."

"Tomorrow you wanna go talk to the Vic's girlfriend and Clara and I can check out the shop and see what the necklaces deal is?"

"Sounds like a plan." Sam agrees, leaning back and shoving multiple gummy-worms into his mouth.

"Sounds spooky." Clara agrees.

"I swear to all things good if you say spooky again I'm gonna hurt someone." Dean grumbles.

"That's a shame. Jane Austen really quite made the word spooky appealing to me." She states. She sees Dean's jaw visibly clinch at the use of the word spooky, and she forces herself not to laugh.

"You've met Jane Austen?" wonders Sam incredulously.

"Yeah; she's quite the kisser too."

Before they can bombard her with questions, she slips into the bathroom to brush her teeth, grabbing her bag along the way. She puts on a pair of nice fleece pants and a light cotton tee before exiting and collapsing onto the nearest bed, where she passes out almost instantly.

"She's something else, Sammy." Dean reports as Sam hands him the copy of Busty Asian Beauties that he bought in replacement for the missing pie.

"Tell me about it."

xXx

She wakes up with an arm draped across her midsection. She doesn't know who it belongs to or what it's doing across her in the first place. Although, it feels sort of nice to feel relevant, she doesn't like it one bit, and she sits up as ungracefully as she possibly can, purposefully waking up the sleeping Dean Winchester beside her.

She notices that Sam is already up, sipping a coffee and munching on an apple grinning smugly.

"Moring, Clara. Morning, Dean."

Sam gets a 'Good Morning' from Clara and a 'Shut Up' from Dean. Clara beats Dean to the bathroom and takes her time to get ready, which doesn't take too awful long. She's all about efficiency these days.

After Dean dresses and eats, the trio sets off in their separate directions. And by the end of the day, they're able to figure out that it's not curse, but possessed by the spirit of a girl by the name of Joy, who (isn't as joyful as she ought to be) was the victim of an accidental drowning, and decided to take her wrath out on poor Emelia. Joy, who was cremated, was, as Dean explained to her, tied to the necklace, so if they got rid of that, the spirit would be off to do whatever spirits actually do when they're not murdering people.

Clara is actually a little sad about burning the necklace; it's beautiful and she has an appreciation for beautiful things. It's nothing too flashy, but it's still would have been noticeable. The silver chain was in desperate need of polishing, but the sole sapphire that hung from it was such a deep shade of blue that she only could think of the TARDIS.

And with that thought, when Sam gave her the go ahead to toss it into the flames, she didn't hesitate.

xXx

On their way back to Bobby Singer's, she found herself less drawn to the scenery of the American landscape but more towards the question of why Ruby possessed her in the first place. Sure, it was random, but it was bugging her. She couldn't completely wrap her head around a reasonable explanation.

Although she was almost certain it had something to do with harnessing the TARDIS, because if there was something that Clara knew, it was that throughout her lifetime, and the many lifetimes of her echoes, someone always seemed to be after taking the TARDIS for their own personal gain.

So this time, instead of keeping the question to herself, she says it out loud, for both Sam and Dean to hear (so that she'll hopefully get an answer back).

And she does. They both say something along the lines of Ruby wanting the TARDIS for herself, but she wasn't going to keep it. The Doctor, who had apparently known that it wasn't Clara all along (a fact she had a hard time believing, but the Doctor trusted these men, so she believed them), had told them that she surely had bigger plans for his most cherished machine, and told them that Clara would be safer with them, if the Demons were targeting him.

So they agreed and that's when her life started to go downhill and slightly uphill at the same time.

They kept explaining things about the Apocalypse that she really wasn't listening too. She kept thinking that the story didn't really add up; well, it did. It made perfect sense, but it just didn't seem right. She couldn't put the finger on why Hell was so bent on getting the piece of alien technology. And then, the answer hit her like a ton of bricks, because if they had the TARDIS, they didn't have to win the first time around.

If they had the TARDIS, then if the Winchesters did manage to win whatever the hell was coming up, all they needed was one demon to go back and change the whole scenario.

Of course. Now that she thinks about it, that seemed really quite apparent, but she could be thick headed; all she needed was to get possessed again with the Doctor and wander into the space ship, and they'd have it. Ruby was a scout. If there was a next time, the Demon would be there for blood lust and for the TARDIS.

So maybe, she wasn't completely pissed at the Doctor for leaving her in the care of two complete psychopaths and a ravening drunkard.

Hell, she might even get to save the world along the way.

(Not that she hasn't done such a thing before. She's just never saved it from demons and strange things like this before; hopefully they'll be s little more stupid than aliens, seeing as most of them were human before.)

 **Long time no see! I felt the need to write something today, so I sat my ass down and gave y'all a little more of this.**

 **There are some season nine spoilers if u squint, and I may have taken a line from the first episode. (oops)**

 **Happy Thanksgiving to those of you that are American and I hope you all have a wonderful rest of the week!**

 **(AYE don't forget to review/favorite/follow! Also feel free to check out some of my other stories)**

 **bleuboxes**


	5. Chapter 5

_My insides are copper and I'd kill to make them gold  
Conversation got me here, another night alone in the city_

* * *

It's not often that things like this happen to her.

Sure, her life has been anything but ordinary for the last two years or so (traveling with the Doctor tends to do that to people), but it's not every day that she finds herself tied up in a nest full of angry vampires. (She's not sure why she convinced herself being bait was a good idea; those boys must really be rubbing off on her.) Fortunately for her, these blood suckers are rather dull in the intellectual department and can't tie a proper knot for the life (or death, she isn't sure) of themselves. To her disadvantage, however, they were smart enough to strip her of her weapon (which she convinced Dean to lend to her, much to his own displeasure he agreed. Even if was only because he felt bad about letting her go into a nest full of vampires unarmed.) And they were also much stronger than she was.

So, she decides, she's got to keep them talking till Sam and Dean arrive in time for her to not get all the blood drained out of her. (She has no idea as to what vampires like to talk about, she she's going to have to improvise.)

"Hey, do you all have any tea? I'm a little bit thirsty; if you don't have Early Grey I suppose green tea works just fine." She yawns and a girl, who couldn't have been older than sixteen when she was turned, spins around to look at her.

"Shut up." She hisses in frustration.

"Where's the hospitality. Bloody Americans."

"Well maybe," says the blond boy next to the girl, "if you didn't come mindlessly wandering into this place with a fucking machete you wouldn't be tied to the post here, lady. It's not my fault you Brits are so fucking stupid."

"I was _not_ 'mindlessly wandering'." She mutters. The boy looks at her again with a glare, moving towards her.

"What'd you say, bitch?"

"Just that your breath smells terrible. I know garlic does wonders for your health, but, darling, you should really try incorporating something else into your diet. Or, you know, brushing your teeth. For god's sake, I've met Daleks with better senses of hygiene than you people."

He looks furious and she smiles. He punches her, and damn, it hurts almost as much as getting her soul split into millions of tiny pieces (okay it didn't hurt that bad, but she's never been hit like this before and she doubts she'll let anyone else hit her like this.)

"Kyle," whispers the girl with wide eyes, "You heard what Mike said – you aren't supposed to hurt her."

" _Hell_ , Celeste, it was just a punch; nothing she didn't deserve." He responds, not bothering to turn around but looking Clara right in the eyes.

"Yeah, well I'm not explaining to Mike why there's a huge ass bruise on her cheek when he examines her." She chides, walking up to Kyle as he turns around to face her, "I'm not getting my ass kicked for you again so stay in line and listen to Mike. She's your liability until he decides what to do with her."

"She _insulted_ me!" he almost shouts. Celeste looks at Clara (almost as if she's saying she's sorry for Kyle's complete incompetence to listen to people, which is sort of shocking because she's sure Celeste wouldn't mind ripping out her throat and having a nice drink). She rolls her eyes.

"She's probably pissed that her half assed plan didn't work out and she got tied to a fucking post. Stop whining like a baby and do your job." She walks away, but turns around one last time before going back to the bigger group of vampires in the far corner of the barn, "And she wasn't lying; your breath smells like cow shit."

He scowls and Clara has to bite her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

She starts humming _Hungry like the Wolf_ (a habit that she shamelessly picked up from a Soviet on a Submarine when traveling with the Doctor) out of sheer nervousness and she's sure it will get Kyle even more aggravated with her. He doesn't say anything, but she can tell by the way his shoulders are tensed that he's just about ready to snap and punch her again.

Lucky for her, she's just loosened the poorly tied cuffs around her wrists (now all she has to do is work on the ones around her ankles, which was going to prove to be a challenge, but she's done it before so it's not an impossibility.)

Kyle isn't paying attention to her at all, being too preoccupied with his own self wallowing to even care, so her increased wiggling goes unnoticed. And in no time, she's able to loosen those ropes as well.

Now all she's missing are the Winchesters to rush in and get her the hell out of here (but not before she personally is the one to chop Kyle's head off, and maybe a few others in the process. She's sleep deprived and angry and freakishly short, so sue her, she may get a little trigger happy)

But that's where her luck runs out; some emo looking guy (he's got the eyeliner and the black skinny jeans and everything) comes and orders Kyle to least look like he's doing his job because Mike will be here to check on the girl any minute.

And by check on her she's sure he means either turning her one of them or drinking all her blood, neither of which seem really appealing to her at the moment. She just hopes that the two loons she's staying with hurry the hell up and get here before she becomes someone else's dinner.

Mike, she assumes, and his entourage enter the barn and she's starting to get a little nervous. This is ever good; Dean and Sam should have been here by now (and it's not like the Doctor's going to save her which is how her little bait excursions usually work).

"You must be Mike," she begins, looking him over. He looks young, but his eyes are old and harsh and she can tell she doesn't want to find herself on this man's bad side. His Hair is spiked up and green and he wears a Green Day shirt, looking like one of the boys she teaches back in England, "I'm Clara. Pleasure is all mine." She smiles. Mike looks entirely too amused and Kyle looks like he's going to be sick.

"I've heard a lot about you, babe." He drones, his accent is distinctly southern as he leans in closer and touches her hair. He goes on to sniff her neck. She stands utterly still.

"All good things?" her breath hitches as his fingers gently caress her cheek. It feels so very wrong; everything about this situation screams _run_.

"Most certainly." He breathes, "Might I ask what a nice girl like you's doin' in a place like this?"

"You know, _wandering aimlessly."_ She all but growls. He's looking directly at her face now, and he's touching the spot where Kyle had punched her.

"Oh, baby, you were doin' so well." Mike sighs as he turns to Kyle, "Why you always gotta ruin shit, Kyle?"

"She made me do it, the _bitch_."

"We get it, Kyle," shouted a woman from the crowd, "at least we have the decency to try and kill people that are try'na kill us, not some girl tied to a post."

"Shut up, Suzanne!" Kyle screams. Not a second later, his head is sliced clean off Mike. His body is left pulsing on the floor, and his head is by Clara's feet. Kyle's blood is splattered all over her body and she's trying her hardest not to vomit.

Plus she's angry. She wanted to be the one to kill that bastard.

"Thank you for your input, Suzanne. Now, if you could _kindly_ shut up." He glowers, "Thank you." He turns back to Clara, wiping the blood off her brow, "Now, my dear, there are some people in very low places willing to pay quite the bundle for you."

"That's sweet of them. I haven't the faintest idea as to why they'd want me."

"Don't think I'm stupid, girl." He hisses, "I know blood that's not from this time. You travel with _him._ "

"And by him, you mean who, exactly? Please," she dotes, "enlighten me."

"The Doctor."

"Oh… I think I've heard of him."

"Good to know." He mutters, running a hand through his green hair, "Tamir, tell Ruby the deal's off."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Nico, do what you want with her, just, be _humane_ about it." He faces her again, "We take consent seriously here, Clara. Now, _smile,_ dear; you look like the cat's got your tongue."

And by the grace of God, Sam Winchester and his brother jump out from the opposite end of the room, butchering as many of the no-good creatures as they can while making their way to her. She's able to use the distraction to slip out of her cuffs and take back her machete off the table a few feet away from where she was tied. (Reason number thirty-four why vampires ought to be one of the stupidest creatures she has ever met.)

She's still angry that she's unable to kill Kyle (now that Mike's killed him). No matter, she'll just have to settle with taking Mike's head instead.

It's the girl, Celeste, who catches up with her while she's on her way to meet up with Dean. Celeste is bigger and more muscular than she is and Clara knows from the start that this was hardly going to be a fair fight.

"C'mon, short stuff," taunts her opponent. Clara refuses to get riled up, instead, she lunges at the other woman, who easily dodges her messy swing. The girl lunges at her, and she's able to use her small size to her advantage and dodges her by stepping to the side. Celeste, knocked off balance from the momentum of her pervious move, is sluggish to get up, and Clara is able to make a clean cut at her neck.

The blood squirts into her face, but she doesn't have time to care about what she had just done, seeing as Suzanne is now lunging at her with a look of pure hatred on her fight.

Suzanne is smaller than her previous opponent, and she looks much older (although Clara knows full well that her strength is not based upon her age, seeing as vampires seem to be quite ageless) Suzanne is fueled by rage and emotions, making her actions careless and sloppy, which gives Clara another perfect opportunity to behead the woman.

They just keep coming at her, and she just keeps slaughtering them like animals. She can smell the death all around her and she's disgusted that she's even taking part in something like this, even more so that she's enjoying the carnage. The only thing keeping her sane at the moment is that if she doesn't kill them they're going to kill her (and it doesn't count as murder because, technically, vampires are already dead).

Somehow, she, Sam and Dean are able to cut and chop their way through all but three of the vampires. Dean, as she risks a quick glance, is engaged with the vampire she believes to be Tamir, and Sam is battling some other man that rivals his size.

And then she notices Mike standing all by his lonesome in another corner, licking the blood off his fingers in the most intimate way she can imagine. (It looks so deranged she decides to add to the chaos by charging at him.)

He's laughing, and she can't blame him; her move was really quite predictable. She takes a swing at him, machete in hand, and he gets out of its way easily.

"You didn't tell me you'd been hangin' out with those boys, baby." He chides, with a click of his tongue.

"Just shut up, Mike." She grunts, lunging for him one again. He's able grab her arm and she loses her footing, falling to the ground. She feels small as he looks down at her down at her, a malicious grin fawns across his face.

"Doll face, you are so _fucked_."

He doesn't have a chance to say anything else; Dean stands behind him and brings his own machete into Mike's neck. His head rolls to the side, and Dean grabs hold of his body so that it doesn't collapse on top of her.

She let out a laugh fit for a mad man before taking Dean's hand as he helps her up.

"You okay, Oswald?"

"Just dandy, possibly sprained my wrist, but I've dealt with worse. You two really know how two really know how to arrive fashionably late."

"Learned from the best."

"Right." She nods, "Ruby's still looking for me." _and you stole my kill, asshole._

"Add that to the list of 'Shit the Winchesters need to deal with'." He snorts. They exit the barn, where Sam is waiting for them by the Impala.

"Hey, Sam."

"Clara."

They step into the car in silence, though both she and Sam are sure they here Dean bitterly mutter something about how he's going to have the clean the seats again.

xXx

The moon is full as they drive back to Bobby's. Dean's back to blasting AC/DC and Sam's trying desperately to sleep (she finds his efforts hilarious, although he eventually doses off.) She's perfectly content watching the stars pass by (plus she's trying to remember the names of most of them, which keeps her attention far away from Angus Young's screeching voice.)

She can't help but notice the way the moonlight bounces off the elder brother's face. It's beautiful, is a macabre sort of way- the vampire blood is caked on his cheeks and chin, giving odd a glossy glint rather than the shiny glow the rest of his face reflects.

His green eyes look back at he via the rear view mirror, as if he knows that she's staring (it's not like he could blame her).

"When all this is done, I'm stealing the TARDIS and talking the both of you on a holiday." She huffs, then mumbles, "And Angus Young will _not be joining us_."

"I'll kick you out of this car if you say that again."

"Alright, Dean. Whatever." She goes back to looking out the window, once again humming _Hungry like the Wolf_ , trying her best to get Dean Winchesters stupid smirk out of her head.

She has more important things to think about (like Ruby and the upcoming feature of the end of the world.)

"Is that Duran Duran?"

"Helps me think. Blame the Soviets. Now go back to driving."

"The Soviets – you know what? I don't even wanna know."

* * *

 **Hello! (It's me)**

 **I just want you all to know that I spent a good 5 hours working on this and I will be very disappointed if there is a severe lack of response.**

 **It doesn't take long to review, like two minutes (even less than that) and all you have to say is "nice story! Cant wat to read more!" like wow. Such complication. Much difficult.**

 **Any who. This is sort of a filler, we're definitely going to get Ruby back in here and I'm trying to get the Clara/Dean relationship into the story without it seeming really really forced. (bc the stories where they 'fall in love' with in like two chapters of getting to know each other really annoy me. (I'm in a pretty bitter mood I'm sorry.)**

 **Anyway, I hope you all have a great rest of the year (THERES ONE DAY LEFT BITCHES YEEEHAWWW)**

 **Happy New Year to everyone, and I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas holiday (if you celebrated it)**

 **(Please feel free to leave feedback/follow/favorite and check out some of my other fics)**

 **Much love and well wishes for the New Year,**

 **bleuboxes**


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